


What You Say vs. What You Mean

by orphan_account



Series: What vs. What [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Blood, Established Relationship, False Accusations, Flashbacks, Forced Orgasm, Graphic Description, Guilt, Heavy Drinking, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Femslash, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Male Slash, Panic Attacks, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Reference to Rape Roleplay, Safeword Use, Sexual Violence, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:39:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Please heed all warnings and tags!</p><p>Chapter 1: Love and Liquor - Ethan shows up at Reid and Morgan’s house while Morgan is out of town.<br/>Chapter 2: Phone Calls and Fear - Reid has no defense against the trap that he has just walked right into.<br/>Chapter 3: Canines and Couch Covers - Morgan doesn't sleep a wink.  Meanwhile, Reid deals with the aftermath.<br/>Chapter 4: Arrivals and Accusations - Morgan jumps to conclusions and causes even more pain for Reid.<br/>Chapter 5: Truth and Trauma - Morgan is horrified when he discovers the truth.<br/>Chapter 6: IV's and Investigations - Morgan receives a frantic call from Garcia.<br/>Chapter 7: Options and Objectivity – Reid asks Morgan to be objective about something.<br/>Chapter 8: Homecomings and Hyperventilation – Reid has a flashback upon returning home.<br/>Chapter 9: Wounds and Words - Of those billions of words, Morgan still cannot find any that suffice.</p><p>The sequel is up now!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love and Liquor

_“The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image.” Thomas Merton_

Reid leaned against the doorway to the bedroom he shared with Morgan watching him pack his bags for a two-day trip. Rossi was interviewing a serial killer in Vancouver, Canada for his next book and needed someone to accompany him. Blake was spending the team’s vacation week with her husband; Hotch was in New York City with Jack and Beth; JJ, Will, and Henry were visiting LaMontain relatives in Louisiana and he was defiantly not taking Garcia. This left Morgan and Reid. Morgan volunteered while Reid had made other plans. Reid’s friend Ethan was in town for a near-by jazz convention and was planning on paying Reid a visit. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Reid said with a sad smile while he watched Morgan zip up his garment bag.

“I’ll miss you, too, Pretty Boy.” Morgan dropped his bag on the bed and met Reid in the doorway. He cupped his lover’s face in one hand and rested the other in the small of Reid’s back. “But remember, it’s only for two days. Your friend Ethan is coming to visit, too, so at least you won’t be lonely.”

Reid bit his lip nervously and looked away. Morgan’s brow creased with concern. “Spencer, what’s wrong.”

“I, um,” Reid stammered. “I canceled with Ethan. He’s not coming over.”

“What? Why?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Reid paused for a long moment and then continued. “You know that Ethan and I used do date a long time ago.”

“Yeah, and I trust you to hang out with your ex because I know you ended things on friendly terms and are still good friends.”

“You remember the case in New Orleans six years ago, right?”

Morgan nodded; he was confused but patient. 

“And you know that I was dating Gerald Huffinger at the time.”

Morgan sighed. “Yes, I remember that jack ass well. Now will you please tell me what’s bothering you?”

Reid took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. When he let it out, his confession came out with it in one jumbled word. “IcheatedonGeraldwithEthan.”

Morgan could not hide the shock on his face. “You did what?”

“I cheated on Gerald with Ethan.” Morgan opened his mouth to speak, but Reid cut him off before he had a chance to get a word out. “I never loved Gerald. As soon as we got home from the case, I went to him and told him everything. I broke up with him because obviously my heart wasn’t in it.” Reid took a breath to steady himself. “Gerald was even willing to forgive me and try to work things out but I wasn’t willing to because, again, I never loved him and I didn’t see myself ever truly loving him. But I love you, Derek. So why should I even put myself in a compromising position?”

It was silent in the bedroom for a minute or so before Morgan spoke. “So you’re afraid if you let yourself be alone with Ethan, you would cheat on me?”

“No!” Red objected quickly. “Not really, I just… I would never cheat on you, Derek. I love you more than the oxygen that keeps me alive and that’s why I refuse to even put the temptation in front of myself. I would NEVER cheat on you. I would rather break my plans with Ethan and even give up his friendship completely than so much as give myself the chance to destroy what we have spent the last four years six months and eleven days building together!”

Again the room fell silent. “Derek, I understand if you leave for your interview with Rossi this morning and never come back because you can’t trust me anymore now that you know I have a history of infidelity. I just had to come clean to you because if I-“

Reid’s sentence was cut off when Morgan suddenly wrapped his arms around him squeezing him to the point where it was difficult to breath. “Spencer I won’t leave you,” he assured. “The fact that you canceled with Ethan and even told me about any of this is proof enough that you want to be an honest person and a loyal partner. I believe you when you tell me that you love me. I believe you when you tell me that you would never cheat on me.”

“For a moment when you didn’t say anything I honestly believed you hated me.”

Reid didn’t think it was possible for Morgan to tighten his hold around him, but he did. “I could never hate you. I love you, Spencer. On a cellular level I love you.” Reid chuckled nervously at Morgan’s use of scientific terminology. “Part of loving someone is trusting and forgiving them.”

Morgan wanted so badly to show Reid right then and there how much he truly loved him, but just then there was a knock at the door. Morgan huffed in frustration and released his hold on Reid. “That would be Rossi.”

“I’ll get the door,” Reid volunteered, “You finish getting your things together like I told you to do last night.” Reid gave a playfully sarcastic smile before he left to answer the door.

Reid opened the door for his friend, greeting him politely and stepping aside to allow him to enter. 

“Morgan’s almost ready,” he informed Rossi, habitually using his lover’s surname in the presence of another team member. Even though the team had known about their relationship practically before they did, it was just one way they kept things in their working life professional.

“I am ready, actually.” Morgan entered the living room carrying a suitcase in one hand and his garment bag slung over his shoulder in the other.

“I’ll be in the car. I’ll let you to say goodbye in private.” Rossi winked teasingly at the couple before going back outside.

“Spencer, I want you to consider an alternative to your meeting with Ethan.”

Reid gaped at Morgan in wide-eyed shock. “What?”

“Just hear me out. I would never expect you to give up your friendship with Ethan, especially now that you know I still trust you. So instead of meeting at the house in private, maybe you could meet somewhere public like a shopping center or restaurant or even his convention. That way you can still play ketch up while avoiding a ‘compromising position’ as you called it.”

Reid nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll think about it. And thank you.”

Morgan smiled widely. “For what?”

Reid hugged Morgan as best he could with luggage in the way. “For trusting me, for loving me, for forgiving me, and for letting me see Ethan after everything I’ve told you.”

Morgan dropped his suitcase on the floor and gently brushed his knuckles across Reid’s cheek. “Spencer I do love you and I do trust you. Now hiving said that, I can’t be sure that I trust Ethan, so if you do decide to meet with him, take your gun. Please?”

Reid nodded. “Of course. I love you Derek.”

“I love you too, Spencer. With all of my heart.”

**_ WIANWIANWIANWIAN _ **

It was the day after Morgan had left and Reid already felt lonely. He had thought a lot about the last conversation that’d had and the more he thought about it, the more he felt Derek was right. Reid was just about to reach for his phone to call Ethan to ask him to meet him later at Nelsons, a semi-fine dining venue near the convention hall, when he heard a knock at the door. He instinctively reached for his gun, which was hidden in a holster on the arm of the couch. “It’s open!” he called to the unknown visitor. The door swung open which startled Reid slightly. In the doorway stood a tall, lanky, bearded man dressed in tight jeans and a lose v-neck t-shirt. Proudly displayed in his right hand was a bottle of some cheep brand of whisky. 

“Ethan!” Reid shouted in shock. Within seconds he regained his composure and stood up form the couch where he was sitting. “Ethan, I told you we couldn’t meet in private.”

“Oh, come on now, Spencer. What do you think is going to happen?” The musician asked in a playful mocking tone.

_Absolutely nothing because we are NOT staying here alone together,_ Reid thought. “I was just about to call you. I was thinking we could go somewhere. There’s a cultural exposé downtown. There’s food, entertainment, art…” he let his sentence trail off. “Listen, I told you why I didn’t want us alone together. I thought you respected that.”

Ethan sighed with disappointment. “Is this you boyfriend’s rule or is this because of your own paranoia because of what happened last time?”

“I told you that I don’t want to…” Reid huffed in aggravation. “Promise me that you will respect the fact that I am in a deeply committed relationship and I will let you stay just for an hour or so.”

Ethan drew an “X” over his chest with the hand that wasn’t holding the alcohol. “I promise. Now can I come in?”

Reid rolled his eyes and smiled slightly. “You’re already in, Ethan. Close the door.” He slumped back down on the couch and picked up his cell phone.

“Texting your man?” Ethan asked casually as he went to the kitchen to help himself to two shot glasses.

“His name is Derek, and yes. I told him you weren’t coming, and he has a right to know there’s been a change in plans.”

_“Ethan showed up at the house a few minutes ago. I swear I did not plan this. I let him stay and made it clear as crystal that nothing will be happening. Is this okay or would you rather us not be here?”_

“Does he know about us?” Ethan asked, returning from the kitchen with two double-shot glasses and the whiskey. Liquor was part of their routine when they met together. Of course, so was sex, and Reid had made it clear that wasn’t happening. 

“He knows that we were together a long time ago, yes.”

Reid’s phone buzzed with a text.

_“Not sure how I feel bout him showing up when u told him not 2. That’s on him, not u. If u 2 stay that’s ok just be careful.”_

Reid sighed with relief that Morgan was not angry, at least not with him.

“Thank you. I will. I love you.”

“Don’t tell me you have to text him and check in like a teenager.” Ethan flopped down on the couch he opened the whisky with a “pop.”

“I don’t have to, I just want to let him know what’s going on. He…” Reid hesitated.

Ethan finished Reid’s sentence. “He knows about us having sex in New Orleans while you were with Gerald?”

Reid nodded silently. His phone buzzed again with another text.

_“Love u 2”_

“You’re too tense, Spencer. Have a drink.” Reid accepted the drink with a considerate smile, but he was determined not to get drunk. _Intoxication leads to lowered inhibitions,_ Reid reminded himself. And lowed inhibitions lead to bad choices.

He had defiantly learned that lesson the hard way once before.

**_ WIANWIANWIANWIAN _ **

Five and a half hours and half a bottle of whisky later Reid found himself in a position that he never wanted to be in: Drunk and alone with Ethan with his guard completely down. Every so often Morgan would text to check on him, Reid would always respond immediately.

_“Havin fun?”_

Ethan let out a groan when Reid tried to text back. “Can’t this guy just leave you alone for half a second? Last I checked you were a grown-ass man!”

“He’s just being cautious,” Reid defended his lover. “Given our history can you really blame him?”

Ethan shrugged and downed another shot.

“I’m going to go call him.” Reid stood slowly; knowing that the effects of the liquor would surly hit him hard the moment he stood up. He was right, but he was balanced enough to walk a semi-straight line to the bathroom. Reid dialed Morgan’s number from memory. 

“Hey, Spencer, what’s up? Everything okay?”

“Yeah just fine.”

The sternness in Morgan’s voice came as a shock to Reid. “Spencer Reid, you are DRUNK!”

“I know,” he apologized in a slur. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you drunk, Spencer? Why on earth would you get drunk? You know what, that doesn’t matter. He needs to leave. NOW!”

“Okay I’ll tell him. Love you, Derek.”

“Spen-“ 

Reid hung up and cut Derek off.

**_ WIANWIANWIANWIAN _ **

Morgan didn’t know whom he was angrier at: Ethan for getting Reid drunk, or Reid for letting him do so. “Why are you drunk, Spencer? Why on earth would you get drunk? You know what, that doesn’t matter. He needs to leave. NOW!”

“Okay I’ll tell him. Love you, Derek.”

“Spencer, wait, stay here for…Spencer? Spencer!”

Morgan practically slammed the phone down on the bedside table.

Rossi asked from the small desk across the hotel room, “What was that all about?”

Morgan shook his head in a stunned silence, barely hearing and not acknowledging Rossi’s question.

“Derek,” Rossi’s use of his given name was meant do draw his attention.

“How could I have been so stupid?” Derek asked more to himself than to Rossi.

“Care to share?”

“No!” Morgan exclaimed. He grabbed his cell phone and stormed out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind him.

_“Alcohol is a very patient drug. It will wait for the alcoholic to pick it up one more time.”  
Mercedes McCambridge_


	2. Phone Calls and Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid has no defense against the trap that he has just walked right into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caution: Graphic violence and rape ahead. Do not read if this will trigger something!

_“I know you love me. The question is, how much?” Jodi Picoult_

“Ethan,” Reid called from the bathroom. When he re-entered the living room he found his friend by the door with his phone in one hand and his empty shot glass in the other. “Are you calling a cab?” Reid asked hopefully.

Ethan shrugged. “I was thinking about it.”

“I think you should.” Reid spoke slowly and cautiously in attempt not to sound rude. “I’m sorry, but you need to leave now.”

Ethan scoffed. “Says you or your boyfriend?”

Reid cleared his throat nervously. “It shouldn’t matter whose idea it was. I’m telling you now that you need to leave.”

Ethan laid his phone on the small shelf of the key hook by the door. “So in other words, your controlling boyfriend wants me out of his house?”

Reid wasn’t sure if it was the anger or the intoxication that was making his head spin. “Ethan, I want you out of the home that I share with my life partner. If you make one more shallow passive-aggressive comment about the man I love I will forcibly remove you from my property. Call. Your. CAB! Wait for it outside.”

Ethan glanced down at his empty glass then looked up at Reid. “What if I don’t want to leave yet?”

Before Reid’s impaired mind could register what was happening, Ethan was on him. His mouth fought against Reid’s forcing his tongue in and his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. Reid was to stunned to move. When Ethan finally pulled away for a breath, Reid screamed, “Ethan stop! Get out of my house now. Out, out, OUT!” Every exclamation of the word “out” was punctuated by a shove against Ethan’s chest. 

Ethan grabbed Reid’s wrists tightly. “I’m not leaving until I get what I came here for, Spencer.” Reid tried to yank his hands away with one swift pull, But Ethan fell into Reid’s pull and their body’s slammed together causing Reid to stumble back.

“Ethan, let go!”

“Pretending you don’t want it, are you?” Ethan growled against Reid’s neck and nipped at the tender flesh there. “Just like you used to so long ago.”

“Ethan, I DON’T want it,” Reid insisted, his voice beginning to shake with panic. “Please stop!” 

Many years ago when Ethan and Reid were together, rape play was quite common. Reid would resist verbally and even fight physically but Ethan would always persist. There had been an understanding back then between the two men that “no” and “stop” did not necessarily mean “no” or “stop.” But this time Reid truly and honestly meant it, and he had no idea in that moment how to convey his point to man who was painfully gripping his wrists and biting his neck.

_ **WIANWIANWIANWIAN** _

Morgan paced up and down the hallway of the hotel he was staying in with Rossi. His mind was racing so fast he could have screamed.

_I should have told Spencer before to get Ethan out of that house. Why are they drinking? Why in HELL would Spencer get drunk if he’s so worried about being in a “compromising position?” Is he cheating on me right now? No. No, he would never cheat on me. Damn, I bet that’s what Gerald though, too. No. NO! Spencer would never cheat on me. He hung up the phone and told Ethan to leave. Yes. Ethan left and Spencer’s making a pot of coffee to sober himself up right now._

Morgan pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent Reid another text message. 

“Everything ok?”

_ **WIANWIANWIANWIAN** _

Reid felt like he was being rescued when he heard the buzz of a text message from his phone on the coffee table.

“Ethan,” Reid pleaded, “Ethan that’s probably Derek. Let me get my-“

Reid was interrupted by Ethan’s mouth on his again. The intruding tongue entered easily thru Reid’s open mouth. Reid twisted his head away from the oral assault. “If I don’t answer his text he’ll know something’s wrong.”

Ethan licked and nibbled Reid’s earlobe and mumbled, “Controlling bastard.”

Reid laughed despite himself at the irony of Ethan’s comment. “Says the man who has me in a death grip! Ethan LET GO!”

“Fine!” Ethan yelled in Reid’s ear making him jump and released Reid’s wrists.  
Reid’s hands were numb from the lack of circulation and he alternately massaged the afflicted joints.

“Hurry up and get your phone so I can fuck you.”

Reid froze. He tried not to let the terror show on his face. His weak voice shook. “You are going to do no such thing, Ethan. You are going to get you your traitorous ass out of my house and never come within twenty miles of me ever again.”

Ethan did not reply. Reid looked at his phone. Then he looked less than four feet away to the far arm of the couch where the gun holster was hidden. In it was the loaded .45 ACP 1911 that Rossi had given Morgan for Christmas three years ago. The caliber was really too much for Reid’s slender arms, but Reid was desperately hoping he would not have to actually fire it. Instead of going to his phone, Reid darted to the far end of the couch. His fingers had just barely touched the gun when he felt Ethan tackle him from behind, slamming him face down on the couch. Straddling Reid’s back, Ethan twisted Reid’s outstretched arm behind his back and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Going for your gun, hu? Nice one, Spencer. Now the game gets interesting.”

_**WIANWIANWIANWIAN**_

Three minutes had passed with no reply from Reid. The last few times Morgan had messaged him, he had replied within a minute. “Damn it, Spencer, text me back.”

Another three minutes went by and still there was no reply from Spencer. Derek decided just to call him.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Then there was a generic automated female voice. “You have reached the voice mail box of-“

“DAMN IT!” Morgan screamed and slammed his phone shut.

At the far end of the hall a man and woman entering their hotel room stared at him momentarily and then went back to their conversation. He could faintly hear the woman’s voice.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this with my husband just down the hall.”

Morgan watched the couple go into the room. He felt sick.

_**WIANWIANWIANWIAN**_

Reid was now in full panic mode. “Ethan, this is not a game. The game we used to play is over. This is rape. Do you understand that, Ethan? If you do this, it’s rape!”

“How many times have you said that? How many times have I ‘raped’ you, Spencer?” Ethan raised his voice a few octaves to mock Reid. “’No, Ethan. Stop, Ethan. I mean it, Ethan. You’re raping me, Ethan.’ That’s how you like it. I know how you like it. I know what you like probably better than -” 

Reid’s phone rang with an incoming call.

“Not him again,” Ethan groaned in frustration and picked up the noisy electronic.

Panic grew in the pit of Reid’s stomach. “Ethan, PLEASE let me answer him!”

“And tell him what? ‘Help me, Derek. Save me Derek. He’s raping me, Derek.’ What is he going to do? He’s in CA-NA-DA!”

By the end of Ethan’s mocking tirade, the phone had stopped ringing. “Lets turn this off, shall we? We don’t need your boyfriend interrupting us anymore tonight.” 

_ **WIANWIANWIANWIAN** _

_That Bitch down the hall is cheating. MY Spencer is cheating. No. He can’t be cheating. Maybe he’s in the bathroom. Yes. All the alcohol made him have to take a major leak and he couldn’t get to the phone in time. I’ll wait a few minutes and call him again._

So Morgan waited for what felt like hours while he paced up and down the hall some more. After three minutes of wearing a hole in the red and blue patterned carpet, Morgan called Reid back. This time there was no ring; just the generic automated female voice again.

“The number you have dialed is unavailable…”

Time seemed to stand in agonizing stillness for Morgan. He slowly lowered the phone from his ear and slipped it back into his pocket. “He turned his phone off,” he thought aloud in disbelief. “He turned his goddamn phone off.”

With nothing more left to do, Morgan went back into the hotel room and slumped down onto the bed. Rossi was still there at the doorway to his own adjoining room. “Morgan, something is wrong,” he observed. “Is something going on at home?”

“Good God Almighty, I hope not, Rossi.” 

Morgan couldn’t stand the thought that Reid, his beloved Spencer, could be cheating on him, and at that very moment nonetheless. The thought was devastatingly and physically painful. He could forgive Reid for cheating on someone else long before their own relationship, but he could never forgive Reid for cheating on him.

Morgan resolved to attempt sleep. It was almost midnight and he wouldn’t know anything for sure until he got home tomorrow afternoon.

_**WIANWIANWIANWIAN**_

Reid began to cry when Ethan turned his phone off. “Ethan, I’m begging you please stop this!”

Ethan got off of him and stood up. For a moment Reid though that perhaps Ethan was going to leave. Such was not the case. “Role over on your back,” Ethan ordered. “I like to be able to see you. You have such an expressive face.”

Reid reluctantly obeyed. When he turned over and saw what was in Ethan’s right hand, his stomach practically jumped into his throat. It was a six inch black handled switchblade. Reid couldn’t breath.

“You remember the knife, don’t you Spencer?” It only happened a handful of times, but during their consensual sexual encounters, Ethan had pulled that very same knife on Reid. There was a specific set of rules pertaining to the knife. The knife could touch Reid’s body as long as it was the broad side, never the edge or the tip. The blade never came close to his neck. And most important was this: struggling around with an open switchblade was extremely dangerous; therefore, when Ethan produced the knife, Reid would submit. No more fighting, struggling or arguing. 

“Sit up,” came another order from Ethan. Again Reid obeyed. Although this was not a game, Reid knew he had to play by the rules to avoid being hurt by the blade his bearded assailant was wielding. Ethan barked another order. “Shirt off.” Reid blocked out all thoughts or feelings other than _I need to survive this_ and removed his lose-fitting t-shirt and undershirt with one fluid motion.

Ethan’s mouth formed the word “beautiful” and he licked his lips. “Lay down.” 

Reid complied and Ethan climbed on top of him straddling his hips. Ethan rolled his hips against Reid’s and Reid choked back a sob when he felt Ethan’s erection rub against him through their cloths. With his left hand, the one that was not still holding the switchblade, Ethan slowly ran his hand up Reid’s body, starting at the navel and moving up to his chest “You’ve gotten some definition. A pleasant surprise.” Reid flinched when Ethan’s thumb brushed across his nipple. This did not go unnoticed by Ethan. “Oh, I remember now. Such sensitive nipples. Tell me, does Derek do this to you?” Ethan rolled one nipple between his thumb and index finger. Reid involuntarily cried out. “Answer me Spencer.”

“Yes.”

“And does Derek do this?” Ethan leaned down and with his knife-free hand still twisting at one nipple he flicked out his tongue across the other. When Reid took to long to answer, Ethan pinched the nipple hard, causing Reid to cry out in spite of himself again. “Tell me!”

Reid was panting from the panic and unwelcome physical pleasure. “Y-yes!”

“So you like it then?”

“Yes. No! I mean…no, no, no…”

Ethan’s chest produced a sinister chuckle. “You said yes first.”

Reid clenched his eyes closed and turned his face away. He had no defense against the trap that he had walked right into.

Ethan tapped the knife against Reid’s chest. Reid panicked and jerked, desperately trying to escape the knife. Reid’s jump startled Ethan and together their motions caused Ethan’s hand to slip. The knife cut deep into the skin of Reid’s chest and sliced down all the way to the rib cage.

“Dam it, Spencer!” Ethan screamed. “That’s why you don’t struggle against the knife.” 

Thru the daze of the alcohol, the pain just seamed like a dull ache across his chest and abdomen. He barely registered it. All he could think about were the rules; the rules to a game he wasn’t playing. It was just then that another rule occurred to him. It was the most important rule they’d had in their sexual relationship and if Ethan was playing by the rules, then this may be the only thing that could save him.”

“Hawthorn,” Reid whispered first and then yelled out, “Hawthorn!”

This name of a city in Nevada was one of two safe words they’d had. If Reid needed a pause or wanted Ethan to stop doing something specific, the word was Reno. But the hard safe word, the word that meant “stop everything now,” was Hawthorn. In the course of their relationship, Reid had used Reno twice and Hawthorn once, and all of those times, the safe words had been honored. He prayed to a God that he didn’t quite believe in that Ethan would honor this use.

Reid saw a ray of hope when Ethan stilled. “Hawthorn, Ethan. You remember our safe words, right? Reno for a pause and Hawthorn for stopping everything, remember? You honored the most important rule before so please honor it now. Hawthorn.”

Ethan smiled mischievously and locked eyes with Reid. This was usually his I’m-about-to-tell-a-crass-joke smile and it chilled Reid to the core. Then Ethan broke three of his own rules at once. He pressed the tip of the blade into the notch of Reid’s neck just hard enough to cause pain but not to break the skin. “Another nice one. But it’s not going to work.”

It was obvious that Ethan would not be honoring the safe word, just as he had not honored Reid’s initial request not to get together at all or his revised proposition to go out in public. Ethan knew that this was no game from the very beginning; Reid could see that now. Ethan knew he didn’t want any of this and he didn’t care. 

Reid gave up fighting then. He just clenched his eyes shut and turned his face away. He knew that this left his neck openly exposed to Ethan’s teeth, not to mention his switchblade, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was detaching himself mentally and getting thru this without any more gashes across his chest.

_I wonder what Derek is thinking right now. Does he think that I’m being unfaithful to him right now? AM I being unfaithful to him right now? No. It’s not infidelity if the encounter is nonconsensual. So much for not being in a compromising position. This is my own fault. No. It’s not my fault! I’m a profiler; I should know that rape is never the victim’s fault. But I let myself get drunk with him! I knew what could have happened and I left myself alone and vulnerable nonetheless. I let this happen. I –_

Reid snapped out of his mental argument with himself and realized Ethan was standing, lifting Reid’s legs up and pulling off his pants boxer-briefs and all. He hadn’t even noticed when Ethan had stood up, or when he had removed his own shirt. The switchblade was still clutched tightly in his right hand. 

“Sit up.” Ethan’s voice was breathy but still commanding. Reid submitted and pushed himself up on shaking arms. Ethan popped open the button of his jeans and let his erect dick protrude from the opening of his boxers. Reid knew what was coming. “Open your mouth,” Ethan ordered. “Get me ready to fuck you.”

Reid hesitantly parted his lips enough for Ethan to shove his dick into Reid’s mouth. Ethan began thrusting hard from the very beginning. Reid wanted desperately to pull away but knew he couldn’t. Ethan must have sensed when he grabbed Reid by the hair with his left hand and held the knife dangerously close to his neck. Several times he gagged around Ethan’s dick, but it never deterred Ethan.

“I know you can give head better than this,” Ethan would say when Reid gagged. “Derek’s black, right? His dick is probably bigger than mine then, so you should be well used to this.” Reid began crying again, sobbing even, when Ethan mentioned Derek. “It’s not the size that matters, though. A guy can have the biggest dick in the world but if he doesn’t know how to use it…” Ethan marked his point with one particularly brutal thrust that hit the back of Spencer’s throat, causing him the lurch, “Well, then I don’t suppose it does him much good then, does it?”

Ethan pulled out of Reid’s mouth, and Reid coughed and gasped for breath now that the intruding length was gone.

“Lay back down.”

Reid did as he was told and clenched his eyes shut again.

_Please use a condom. Please, please, PLEASE if you are going to rape me, which I know you are for the love of everything that is good right in this world please use a condom!_

Then came Reid’s only relief he would have that night: the sound of foil tearing. “Hold this,” Ethan said and placed the unwrapped lubricated latex in Reid’s hand. Ethan lifted one of Reid’s legs and hooked it over his shoulder. One of Ethan’s legs knelt on the couch between Reid’s legs and the other supported him with his foot on the floor. “Open your eyes.” Reid opened them slowly and blinked against the light of the room. Ethan motioned with his knife to the condom in Reid’s hand. “Put it on me. And no more nice ones, Spencer.” Ethan pressed the broad side of the knife against Reid’s limp dick. “I’m warning you.”

Both Reid’s hands and his labored breaths shook as he rolled the condom over Ethan’s dick, making sure to pinch the tip to prevent an air pocket, which could cause the condom to break.

Ethan let out a low, satisfied groan. “That feels so damn good, Spencer. Do you have any idea how hot it is watching you do that?” Ethan leaned down and orally assaulted one of Reid’s nipples. “Do you and Derek use condoms?”

_Please stop talking about Derek! He thinks I’m cheating on him! He has no idea I’m being RAPED! Fuck, I love him so much, and he probably hates me right now._

“Hu? Answer me. Do you and Derek use condoms?”

“N..no,” Reid barely managed to choke out.

Ethan sat up and shifted to position himself in front of Reid. “Well then this should be special for you.” He held the handle of the switchblade in his mouth between his teeth to free both hands long enough to line himself up at Reid’s entrance. With no further warning and absolutely no prep, Ethan pushed his entire length in with one overpowering thrust. 

A scream that made him sound like he was dying ripped thru Reid. His eyes were blown wide with shock and sheer terror. He watched Ethan take the knife out of his mouth. Ethan held the knife and still gripped Reid’s hip with his right hand, and his left wrapped around Reid’s leg that was hooked over his shoulder. Once he was in position he began thrusting. There was no rhythm and no build up, only Ethan slamming into Reid over and over again with a force that Reid felt should have been able to split his body in half from the groin up. The pain of being so forcibly fucked with no preparation and precious little lubrication burned Reid from the inside out, and with every thrust the blade that was pressed up against his hip cut small but stinging nicks into his skin. All Reid could do was scream, cry, close his eyes and hope for an end. He forced his mind to focus on the technicalities of the rape rather than the rape itself.

_One in thirty three men are victims of sexual assault in their lives. One in ten rape victims are male. Thirty eight percent of rapists were a friend or acquaintance of the victim. Two out of five rapes occur inside the victim’s home. Forty three percent of rapes take place between the hours of 6pm and midnight. The average rapist is 31 years old. Fifty two percent of rapists are white. In one in three rapes, the rapist was intoxicated. Eleven percent of rapes involve a weapon. More specifically, six percent of rapes involve a knife._

Eventually Reid felt his traitorous body respond to the all-out sensory attack on his body and the pressure on his prostate and his dick began to harden. Ethan released the knife, apparently not caring where it went, spit in his hand, and grabbed Reid’s dick. He fisted it violently in time with his merciless thrusts. “Come on Spencer, come for me. I know you love this.”

_I do NOT love this! My erection is an involuntary physiological reaction to prostate and genital stimulation. It doesn’t –_

Reid cried out in a mixture of searing pain and intense unwanted physical pleasure as his orgasm crashed thru his body with no warning and came into Ethan’s hand.

“Ah, fuck yes, SPENCER!” Ethan practically roared as he came, slowing his thrusts as he rode the wave of orgasm.

Finally it was over and Ethan was pulling out and removing his awful weight from Reid. Reid’s eyes had been sealed shut for some time, so he could only hear Ethan remove the condom and toss it in the small waist basket nested under the coffee table. Once again he felt the unwelcome brush of Ethan’s beard against his face. 

“Ooh, Spencer you were soooooo good,” Ethan crooned against Reid’s lips. 

The pain, the shock, the alcohol and the post-orgasmic haze all conspired together to make Reid dizzy and nauseous. He tried to open his eyes. He could he the blurry outline of Ethan’s half-naked body doing who knew what, but his vision was like looking through wax paper while riding a tilt-a-whirl. The spinning only made him feel more nauseated so he closed his eyes again. He couldn’t be sure what was going on in the room right before, by some existing mercy, he lost consciousness.

_“The world will give you that once in awhile, a brief timeout; the boxing bell rings and you go to your corner, where somebody dabs mercy on your beat-up life.” Sue Monk Kidd_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What word am I supposed to use when referring to the male "part?" It sounds to technical to call it a penis. Every smut fic I have ever read calls it a cock, but I don't like that word. I hope my use of the term "dick" was acceptable. Sorry, I just really hate the word "cock."
> 
> The statistics in Reid's thought paragraph are real statistics from the U.S. Department of Justice Bureau of Statistics. It's a bit chilling if you think about it.


	3. Canines and Couch Covers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan doesn't sleep a wink. Meanwhile, Reid deals with the immediate aftermath alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was intended to be longer, but the second half of the chapter was not coming along as quickly as I wanted, so I posted what I had for the sake of a speedy update.

_“We are dying from overthinking. We are slowly killing ourselves by thinking about everything. Think. Think. Think. You can never trust the human mind anyway. It's a death trap.” Anthony Hopkins_

Morgan didn’t sleep a wink. He tried, oh how desperately he tried. He continuously turned full circle in his bed; he laid on his back, rolled on his side, flipped onto his stomach, turned to the other side, then ended up on his back again. He figured that he must have put at least two miles on his feet from pacing and circling the room. He even took two near-scalding showers in hopes that breathing in the steam and feeling the hot stream beating against his tense muscles would calm him enough to at least relax.

He lost count of how many times he tried to call Reid again. Every time he was greeted by the infernal generic automated female voice telling him in her own impersonal way that his lover’s phone was still turned off.

_Why would he turn his phone off? Did he need me to leave him alone so he could fuck his ex? No. No, he couldn’t! He’s drunk and exhausted and just wanted to crash. But then why wouldn’t he answer the first time I called? I told myself he was in the bathroom. Damn it that still doesn’t make sense. He could have called me back. He had to pick up the phone to turn it off anyway, right? Wait, maybe he didn’t turn it off, maybe it just died. No, it was on the charger when I left. That thing can hold a charge for days when it’s in minimal use. The shower! That’s it! He showered after Ethan left and never even heard the phone ring. No, something is still wrong here. Damn you Spencer Reid!_

Morgan had never seen Ethan, but Reid had told him what he looked like once. He was about Reid’s height and build with long black hair and a short beard. Morgan couldn’t stop from picturing a man like that with his hands and whatever else all over HIS Spencer. He considered calling Garcia, the only other team member left in Quantico that weekend, to go check on Reid, but he wasn’t so shallow as to pit a mutual friend up against Reid, especially when he couldn’t be sure what, if anything, was happening.

And Morgan really had no idea what WAS happening.

_** WIANWIANWIANWIAN ** _

It was cold, dark, and deathly silent when Reid regained consciousness. His liquor-clouded mind was slow to recall the night’s previous happenings, but eventually he remembered every horrible detail of how he ended up naked and bloody on the couch.

It occurred to Reid that he might not be alone. “E-Ethan?” His voice did not come as a shout as he had intended, but a hoarse cracked whisper. He cleared his throat, which resulted in a series of heavy dry coughs. “Ethan?” he called again, this time his voice was clearer but still not as loud as he had hoped. He listened intently. He could now hear the faint sounds of whining and scratching coming from the back door. Reid felt a pang of guilt that poor Clooney had been locked outside all of this time.

_All of what time?_

Reid glanced across the room at the little red numbers on digital screen of the DVR. It read 5:27 am. Reid realized that he had been unconscious for nearly five hours.

Slowly but surprisingly steadily, he brought himself to a sitting position on the edge of the couch. He held his head in his hands for a minute or so; his temples throbbed with the makings of an atrocious hangover. He took a deep breath and tried to stand, but his legs fell weak beneath him and he gripped the coffee table in order to prevent himself from toppling over. He found his sea legs eventually and was able to stand.

Although he was alone in the house, he felt ashamed and highly self-conscious to be completely naked. He carefully bent over gripping his pounding head in one hand and retrieved his underwear that was lying in a pile at the end of the couch, along with his shirt. Twice he almost fell over, but he managed to step into the boxer-briefs and pull them up his legs. He felt somewhat better with the most intimate parts of his body now covered, so he padded to the back door as quickly as he could manage to let Clooney inside.

The elderly canine darted past him as soon as the door was cracked and made a b-line for the living room. Reid watched the curious black lab sniff around the living room paying special attention to the wastebasket and the bloodstain on the couch. Then Clooney, seemingly having put two and two together, rushed to Reid, whining and sniffing fervently.

Reid gave the dog a small half-hearted smile. “You can tell something’s wrong, can’t you?”

Clooney let out a defined whimper and looked up at Reid, who nodded in reply and reached down to stroke the top of the animal’s head.

Suddenly Clooney began trying to lap at the stream of blood snaking down Reid’s abdomen from the re-opened wound in his chest. “Clooney, stop,” he scolded and gently pushed the dog’s head away, eliciting a whine of protest. He knew Clooney was only trying to help in the way his instincts told him to when a member of his “pack” was injured. Reid looked over to the couch and noticed the drying blood stain. He suddenly could not stand the sight of his own blood. He stepped over Ethan’s discarded shot glass and his pile of cloths on the floor on his way to the couch and pulled off the slipcover that covered the entire piece of furniture. He walked it to the laundry room and tossed it in the washer. He was about to pour in a liberal amount of stain remover when out of nowhere a wave of intense nausea hit him and he couldn’t breath. He sprinted to the bathroom, dropped to his knees, gripped the toilet for dear life and vomited.

Reid vomited over and over again until nothing came out but dry heaves that wracked his entire exhausted body. His body felt shaky and weak. He rested his forehead against the cool porcelain for what could have been hours but was really only about five minutes before it occurred to him that he was severely dehydrated and he needed to work up the strength to stand and get water. He reached up and grabbed the edge of the counter to pulled himself up to stand in front of the sink. He ran the cold water and filled a nearby empty cup, swishing the water around in his mouth and spitting it out twice before beginning to drink slowly. He drank one full cup and was about to fill it up again when he looked at himself in the mirror. He was disgusted at the sight of himself. He was drenched in sweat, his skin was deathly pale and the bags under his eyes were so wide and dark they looked like bruises. His entire front was covered in blood from the cut that was now openly bleeding again.

He absently thought about the blood-thinning properties of alcohol, specifically clear liquor, but he pushed those thoughts away in order to focus on the task at hand. He turned around to the ceiling-high cabinet and retrieved the large (heavy) pro-grade tackle box that held a comprehensive first aid kit. Inside he found sterile gauze pads and self-adhering medical tape. Without bothering to clean the dried blood from the wound, he pressed the gauze pads over the gash and awkwardly reached around himself, wrapping the medical tape around his chest. Momentarily satisfied with his haphazard self-treatment, he threw the wrappers from the gaze pads in the trashcan, washed his hands, and stashed the kit away in its proper place. He needed one more layer to block the blood from his sight, so he dug through the cloths hamper and put on one of Morgan’s t-shirts that he found there. It just happened to be black, so if he were to bleed thru the stains would not be as apparent. He was thoroughly exhausted then. He felt as though he could pass out right there in the bathroom and never care.

He knew he should shower. He knew he should brush his teeth. He knew he should clean the living room. He knew he should properly dispose of the spent condom in the living room wastebasket. He knew he should call Morgan and tell him what had happened. He knew he should call Garcia and ask for a ride to the hospital to have the gash in his chest properly cared for. He knew he should do so many things but the only thing he could bring himself to do was stagger into the bedroom and collapse onto the bed.

Clooney, no longer able to spring up as he had been in his younger years, struggled into the bed and curled himself up next to Reid. Normally the dog was not allowed on furniture, especially not the bed, but Reid had neither the strength nor the heart to push him away. Instead he wrapped an arm around the warm protective body next to him and found a small but desperately needed measure of comfort as he drifted off to sleep.

_“Dogs never bite me. Just humans.” Marilyn Monroe_


	4. Arrivals and Accusations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan jumps to conclusions and causes even more pain for Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long to update. I wasn’t sure exactly how the scene should play out and I juggled with about five different scenarios and finally settled on what you are about to read. Surprisingly the part I struggled with most was getting Reid out of bed and into the living room. Actually I first had to get MYSELF out of bed and to the computer to even try to write, but that’s beside the point…

_“People do not like to think. If one thinks, one must reach conclusions. Conclusions are not always pleasant.” Helen Keller_

It was much earlier than expected, 8:30 am as opposed to the planned 1 pm when Morgan arrived home. He was nervous, no, he was terrified of what he would find when he walked through the door of his home.

“Do you want me to wait out here just in case something’s wrong?” Rossi offered as he pulled his SUV up to the curb in front of the house.

“No,” Morgan declined. “If there’s something wrong, he and I need to work it out on our own.”

Rossi nodded in understanding and let Morgan retrieve his bags from the back seat with no further parting pleasantries. 

Morgan was steady on the outside but inside he shook with anticipation while approaching the house. He stopped at the door and waited for…he had no idea what he was waiting for.

_Why am I like this? I shouldn’t be like this. I don’t even know what happened. I don’t even know IF anything happened. I just need to…_

He had his keys ready, but he tested the doorknob finding it unlocked. This immediately worried him. He pushed the door open slowly, sending an eerie resounding creak through the air and every fiber of his being. Immediately upon stepping inside he was greeted by the overwhelming odder of cheep stale whisky mingled with a musty scent that he hoped was not what he thought it was. His mouth went dry and his body went numb when he took in the sight of the living room. The first thing he noticed was the open half-empty bottle of liquor on the coffee table along with a toppled over double-shot glass and Reid’s cell phone. On the floor a few feet from the door was another empty glass. The beige slipcover was missing from the couch reveling the stained formerly white upholstery. Most disturbing was what was on the floor in front of the couch: a pile of cloths consisting the ragged pair of jeans that Reid only ever wore around the house and an inside out T-shit and A-tank.

In the bedroom, Reid awoke to the bed shaking slightly and a cold feeling from lack of shared body heat that told him Clooney had jumped down from the bed. Slowly, not wanting to further aggravate his still-throbbing head or his wounded chest, Reid rose from the bed and followed the dog into the living room. Clooney made a dash for the back door, but Reid froze like a statue when he caught sight of Morgan, who had apparently just entered thru the doorway. The door was not even closed all the way behind him and he was still holding his bags. The look of confusion/shock/hurt on Morgan’s face almost killed Reid.

Reid tried to speak, feeling that he needed to be the first one to say something, but all that came from his parched mouth was a dry scratching sound from his throat.

Reid’s stunned silence gave Morgan the first word of the morning. He let his bags fall unceremoniously to the floor and he closed the door behind him, making Reid flinch. His voice was barely a whisper, put the pain it held was louder than a thousand screams. “I trusted you, Spencer.”

Reid finally drew up the ability to speak. “Derek, I –“

“Shut up! I trusted you! I told you that you could still see the friend you used to sleep around with. I woke Rossi up at five this morning so we could take an earlier flight than planned so I could get home to you and THIS is what I come home to?!” 

_No, Derek! Please just listen to me; I didn’t cheat on you! I love you!_

“I-I didn’t –“

“Didn’t what?! Didn’t think I’d be home this early? I sent you a text, actually about twenty texts. Maybe you should turn your phone back on now that you’re done fucking jazz artists for the week!”

Reid shook his head hard enough to make himself dizzy. _How do I get you to listen to me?_ “Please, Derek, just –“

“SHUT UP!”

Reid bit his lip and choked back a sob. He had just been raped by someone he thought was a friend; someone he thought he could trust. Now the man he loved more than life itself was yelling at him from it because he thought he had been unfaithful.

“Yeah, you cry,” Morgan said and pointed back to the bedroom. “Go to the bedroom and have yourself a good damn cry, and when you’re done I want you out of my house, yeah that’s right! Pack enough shit to last you a few day’s because that’s how long it'll be before I can look at you without feeling sick.”

He couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom; he broke down and cried right in front of the man he loved who now seamed to hate him. “C-can you please just-“

“SHUT! UP!” Morgan yelled for the third and loudest time. “I don’t want to hear your VOICE right now!”

Reid resolved that he would tell Morgan what had really happened once he and Morgan were both calmed down. That was, if Reid could get ever convince Morgan to listen. For now he just wiped the hot angry tears from his face with the back of his hand, stormed off to the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. He threw himself on the bed, buried his face in a pillow that smelled like dog breath and wept harder and longer than he ever had in his life.

In the living room, Morgan collapsed onto the couch, buried his face in his hands and did the same. 

_“If you follow reason far enough it always leads to conclusions that are contrary to reason.” Samuel Butler_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG that hurt my heart! I'll try to have chapter 5 up ASAP.


	5. Truth and Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan is horrified when he discovers the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan_ReidismyOTP hopes Morgan will give Spencer the chance to tell the truth and Sandylee007 believes Morgan needs to get his crap together ASAP. In honor of these two fellow fic lovers and everyone who has commented on ff.net or AO3, on with the chapter! Sorry Brennah_K, Ethan’s not going to die, at least not in this story.

_“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.” Buddha_

Hours seemed to pass.

Hours. It could very well have been months inside of Reid’s mind, but in reality it was less than an hour. Less than an hour in dead hollow silence save for the soft sounds of muffled crying and the distant barking of neighborhood dogs. Less than an hour of being alone with his thoughts and his tears and his anger and his pain.

_Why is Derek doing this to me? It was a semi-reasonable conclusion that I had been unfaithful given the circumstances and my history, but he of all people should have at least suspected that the sex could have been nonconsensual! Maybe he would still think it was my fault for letting it happen. No he wouldn’t. Again, he of all people should know that it’s not the victim’s fault. What am I going to do? What am I going to do if he won’t listen to me?_

Reid eventually ran out of energy cry. When his breathing and heart rate had evened out, he contemplated trying to confront Morgan again, but he wondered if he had waited long enough.

It was less than an hour, but it was the longest less than an hour of Reid’s life.

In the living room where Morgan had not moved from his place on the couch, time dragged at an equally excruciating pace. 

_How could he do this to me? How could he just piss away the risks we’ve taken, the love we’ve built, the trust we had in each other, all like he never even cared? I gave up a part of my soul to trust him, and what does he do with it? He gets drunk and stupid and fucks some –“_

Suddenly Morgan thought chain was broken by the sound of a creaking floorboard. It startled him to the point that he practically jumped when he stood from the couch. He turned around and saw Reid standing there looking a disheveled mess. His face-framing locks streaked down his ashen sweat and tear drenched face and he was still dressed in boxer-briefs and T-shirt. 

“What in the hell are you doing in here?” Morgan demanded. When he did not receive a reply, he repeated louder, “I said what in the hell are you-“ 

“Shut up!” Reid interrupted, shouting in the same tone and words as Morgan had before. “Shut up and listen to me!” Reid took Morgan’s stunned silence as his chance to finally speak. He managed a strong, steady, and determined voice, the tone he usually reserved for stubborn Unsubs. “You trusted me but not Ethan. You said before you left, and I quote, ‘I do love you and I do trust you. Now having said that I’m not sure that I trust Ethan, So if you do decide to meet with him take your gun.’ You were weary of him to the point that you advised me to arm myself against him, yet your initial reaction was to blame me, the one you trusted. Never once did it occur to you to blame him, the one you didn’t trust!”

“So he came on to you first, then? It doesn’t matter who started it, Spencer.”

“Even if I tried to stop it?”

Morgan shook his head, as if to clear it. The expression on his face had changed from one of disgust and anger to one of confusion and concern. “Wait…What?”

Reid took a heavy trembling breath in attempt to inhale the courage he needed from the tense air. The “stubborn Unsubs” attitude was out like a light. “I-I tried to stop him. I tried everything my alcohol-impaired thought process could think of to stop him. Derek, please believe me,” Reid pleaded desperately, tears now slowly trickling from his blood-shot eyes again. “I wasn’t unfaithful to you, he…I was…”

 _Raped._ He couldn’t bring himself to say the word “raped,” let alone the proceeding prepositional phrase “at knifepoint.” Even “forced” was more than his heart could bare to say to Morgan.

“Wait, you…” Morgan closed his eyes to process what Reid had just implied. “You said no and he still…Spencer?”

“He...he had a switchblade, and I…”

“A knife,” Morgan’s voice rasped out. His eyes were open now, blown wide, and his mouth hung wide open in a manner that may have been comical out of context.

“I tried,” Reid insisted again. He was now fully crying again. His tears came from the pain of the major trauma he had endured but he could not deny a feeling of relief that he could finally tell Morgan the truth. “I tried to pull away, I tried to push him off of me, I tried to go for the gun beside the couch, I begged him to stop, I even used our old safeword.” He turned his face away in shame. “But it’s still my fault, isn’t it? I let him in, I got drunk, I-“

“NO!” Morgan wanted so badly to rush to Spencer and wrap his arms tightly around him protecting and shielding him from the world, but he knew that would only make matters exponentially worse. Instead he took slow careful steps toward him. “No, Spencer, it’s not your fault. I’m SO sorry, love. I’m so SORRY!” Morgan was also crying again. He cried for Reid’s pain and his own guilt at how he had treated him: yelling at him, blaming him, and pushing him away when he needed him most. “I should have known to trust you. You were right, it never once occurred to me that he…”

“That he what?” Reid looked up again but did not meat Morgan’s eyes. “Say it, Derek.”

This, Morgan knew, was his punishment. He would be the one to confirm the reality aloud and make it real because Reid hadn’t the strength.

“That he…” Morgan’s heart dropped to his stomach and sat heavy there. “That Ethan raped you, Spencer. That he raped you at knifepoint.”

“And you YELLED at me!” Reid practically screamed, startling Morgan again. “Four times I tried to tell you the truth and four times you cut me off, refused to allow a single word of honesty from the man you’re supposed to love.”

Morgan’s voice cracked. “I-I’m sorry.”

“’Sorry?’ There are literally billions of words in the English language Derek, and the only one you can conjure from your thick head is ‘sorry!?’”

“I…” Of the billions of words that Reid had claimed there were, Morgan could not find a single suitable one to express how shocked, guilty, ashamed, mortified, angry, and just plain SORRY he was. “What am I supposed to say? I’ll say anything Spencer. I’ll do anything.” 

Reid shook his head slowly. “No. I’m sorry, Derek. You’re initial deduction was reasonable given my past combined with the state in which you found the living room. Besides, I…” Reid sighed and sounded utterly defeated. The sound made Morgan’s chest hurt. “I should never have let this happen in the first place.”

“Spencer you did not LET this happen. None on this is your fault. You were raped at knife point.”

Derek kept talking, but suddenly Reid couldn't hear his words. He felt hot on the outside and cold on the inside, then the opposite. His limbs were like weights and his mouth was so dry he felt as though he had never even seen water. His vision began to blur and soon he could not see at all. He knew he was still conscious, though, because he felt himself still standing, as well as a sudden renewal of pain from the wound in his chest. It wasn't a sharp pain like it had been before; it was a burning sensation that went all the way thru him.

“Spencer? Spencer!” Derek asked repeatedly in concern when he noticed Reid seemed to be sleeping standing up. He was just barely close enough to touch him, and he reached out cautiously to touch his shoulder. Before he could make contact, Reid’s eyes fluttered closed and he collapsed.

Morgan only just caught Reid before he fell to the floor, and he lowered them both down so that Morgan was kneeling and Reid was dead weight against him.

Reid’s breath was short and labored when he spoke. “Derek, please, hospital, now.”

“You said he used a knife. Did he cut you?”

Morgan felt Reid nod against him. “My chest. Deep, think it’s infected.”

Morgan felt new and potent anger building inside of him, but he did not have time to show it. He gathered Reid’s limp, barely conscious body in his arms. He stood and carried him to the door and, with some effort, managed to open it. He went outside to his car as quickly as he could manage while carrying Reid. “Do you think you can stand for a few seconds so I can get the door?” Reid nodded and Morgan slowly stood him up. Reid was able to stand, although he had to lean on Morgan.

Morgan helped Reid into the front passenger seat, fastened his seatbelt and leaned the seat as far back as it would go.

“It’s going to be okay, Love,” Morgan assured. 

“Derek,” Reid said in a strained whisper and used every ounce of physical strength he had to reach up and touch Morgan’s face. 

Morgan took both of Reid’s clammy hands into his own and leaned forward to plant a tentative kiss on Reid’s sweaty brow, feeling the heat of fever under his lips. “I love you.” Morgan knew that it was only because he was on the verge of passing out completely that Reid did not reply, but it hurt nonetheless. “Let’s get you to the Hospital.”

_“If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth, only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.” C. S. Lewis_


	6. IV’s and Investigations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan receives a frantic call from Garcia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry it took me so long to update. This is quite the emotionally taxing story to write, and when you have an emotional event in your own life (don’t worry, it’s nothing traumatic, just some work BS!) sometimes you just have to step away for a while and breathe.

_“The injuries we do and the injuries we suffer are seldom weighed on the same scales.” Aesop_

Sit. Stand. Pace. Sit. Cross legs. Uncross legs. Stand. Drink disgusting complementary coffee. Pace.

This was Morgan’s pattern as he suffered in the waiting hall of the emergency room at St. Gregory’s Regional Medical Center. They had long sense kicked him out of the exam room while Reid was checked by doctors as well as an investigator from the police department. The ER staff had been required by law to report Reid’s injury and Reid, to Morgan’s shock, agreed to submit a formal statement and report the incident as a sexual assault.

 _Male victims of sex crimes are 43% less likely than female victims to report the crime,_ Reid had told him. _I’m not letting Ethan use that, too._

Ethan had already used Morgan’s absence. He had used Reid’s trust. He had used the fact that Reid had never been able to judge when enough was enough when it came to alcohol and make himself quit drinking before he was too drunk to care. 

And so thinking on that note, Morgan waited. And waited. And – 

Morgan almost jumped with a start when his phone rang from within his back pocket. He answered it without bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Ohmygod, Derek, what happened?!” cried a familiar and panicked voice. “There’s crime scene people here and they won’t tell me anything. Are you okay? Is Spencer okay?”

“Calm down, Garcia,” he stopped pacing and slumped down in an uncomfortable chair and ran one hand across his bald head. “What are you doing there anyway, Baby Girl?”

“I stopped by on my way to Ashley’s to ask you and Boy Wonder if you guys wanted to double date with us at the culture expo, but apparently something has come up. I demand to know what’s going on this instant, Derek Morgan!”

Morgan held his breath trying to come up with something honest yet evasive to tell Garcia, but the technical analyst on the other end of the phone was loosing what little patience she had. “Morgan, please, I –“

“Reid’s been…” Morgan hesitated, “…hurt. I came home from the trip with Rossi and found him a trembling mess. We’re at St. Greg’s and he’s getting patched up right now.”

Morgan heard a horrified gasp followed by an angry nonsensical yell. “Ooooh! Let me at’em, Morgan let me at’em! I’ll track down the low life who hurt my genius boy and by the time I’m done with his credit scores he won’t get approved for a mother-loving library card!” 

Despite the gravity of the situation, Morgan actually chuckled. Even angry Garcia could always calm him. “I’m sure Reid would appreciate your efforts PG, but the hacking will have to wait. Right now I need a favor.”

“Anything, Choco-Doll. Anything.”

“When CSI leaves, can you go inside and pack a change of cloths for him and bring them to us? Make sure it’s something lose and comfortable.”

“Of course, Love.”

“Baby Girl, you have no idea just how much this –“

Morgan stopped when he saw the doctor, a small blonde woman with sparkling emerald eyes who looked way to young to have been thru medical school, entered the waiting hall. 

“I have to go, PG.”

“Okay, bye. Love you!”

Morgan hung up and stood, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Hello Agent Morgan,” the young doctor greeted professionally. “I’m Dr. Fielding. Your partner is going to be just fine. When you brought him to us he was severely dehydrated. The chest wound itself required six stitches and the early signs of possible bacteremia were already present in his system.”

 _Bacteremia._ Morgan was sure; no he was positive he had heard that term before. It was the proper medical term for…

“Blood poisoning? I didn’t know it could happen that quickly.”

“Normally it doesn’t,” Dr. Fielding confirmed. “However, in this instance surface bacteria rode in on dead blood cells from dried blood re-entering his body thru the open wound. He’s already responding well to antibiotics. He was given a local injection of Amoxicillin and a 10 mg oral dose of Bactrim that he will need to take every eight hours for the next four days. He’s also on IV fluids to re-hydrate his body and we’ve had him drinking lots of water.”

Morgan nodded slowly and let his mind absorb all of the things the doctor had said. He felt a small amount of tension lift now that he knew Reid was, at least physically, all right.

“What about the, um…” Morgan wasn’t sure exactly how he should phrase that question, but the doctor seamed to understand.

“The forensic examiner isn’t quite finished with him yet,” Fielding explained. 

As if on cue, another female doctor entered the waiting hall. This one was taller with a strong but still feminine build, dark brown hair pulled back in a tight bun, and a serious gray-eyed face that seamed as though it hadn’t the capability of a smile at all. Morgan judged by the gold DCPD logo on her navy blue scrubs that she was the forensic examiner.

“Agent Morgan, I’m Dr. Clark,” was her stoic greeting. “Dr. Reid has consented to a rape kit.” The brunet doctor paused when she noticed Morgan’s eyes widen. “I wish all sexual assault survivors were as willing as your partner to go thru with this process. It most likely comes from spending his career on the investigative side of these cases, but that obviously doesn’t make it easier for him to do. He’s a fighter.”

“Damn right he is,” Morgan’s voice cracked and he clenched he jaw tight enough to hurt his teeth. He was determined not to cry again. After the way he had treated Reid it the wake of all of this, he didn’t feel he deserved the luxury of crying. He had to be strong for Reid; at least until he knew he was forgiven for lashing out.

That is, if he was to be forgiven.

Morgan pushed those thoughts aside. “Can I see him?”

Dr. Clark gave a single sharp nod. “As a mater of fact, he asked to see you. He said he needed to talk to you before we complete the S.A.E. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to him.”

_“I’ve learned that waiting is the most difficult bit, and I want to get used to the feeling, knowing that you’re with me, even when you’re not by my side.” Paulo Coelho_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately for everyone who despises our (least) favorite scruffy-faced piano player, Ethan will not be seen again in this fic, but I’m already planning on making a series out of this. Perhaps eventually we will see Morgan, as Morgan_ReidismyOTP so poetically stated, introduce his fist to Ethan’s face. Silverwrym can’t wait to see Morgan kick Ethan’s butt, and Sandylee007 wants Ethan’s head on a stick. MidwestDreamer also awaits when Ethan has to face the music…and not the piano kind. Thanks guys for your continued support!


	7. Options and Objectivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid asks Morgan to be objective about something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As emotional as this story has been to write, this chapter is the first time where I actually cried while writing. 
> 
> _**WARNING:**_ There is a very detailed description here of the S.A.E (sexual assault examination) procedure and I don’t mind at all if you skip it because its intense and squicky and graphic and all that great stuff. In fact I think it may be more intense than the rape scene itself!

_“There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.” Elie Wiesel_

Morgan followed Dr. Clark down the hall and around a corner until she stopped at a room with the door just slightly ajar.

“You can go on in,” she offered, “I’ll be right outside when he’s ready.” 

Morgan pushed the door open just enough to step inside. He almost cried out in pain at the sight before him. Reid’s eyes were closed, but Morgan could tell from his clenched eyes, uneven breathing and the random shudders thru his body that he was awake. He was lying on his back covered only from the waist down with a light bed sheet. A thick bandage covered a line down his chest over what was surely a gruesome wound underneath. Some color had returned to his skin, but he was still eerily pail and underneath his eyes were dark and swollen. An IV line protruded from one hand and the tube snaked up and around a pole holding a bag of what Morgan guessed was half-saline. With a closer look he noticed bruises around Reid’s wrists and ever so faint bite marks on the side of his neck. 

_How could I not have seen that before,_ He thought to himself in shameful disbelief. But again, he pushed those thoughts aside. 

“Spencer,” he spoke in a voice just above a whisper, making Reid flinch with a start. Reid opened his eyes but did not look at Morgan. Instead he stared straight forward to the foot of the bed. Morgan saw the positive that Reid was consciously aware of his presence. “I talked to Dr. Clark. She said you were going to let her do a kit.” _You’re so strong, Spencer, I’m so proud of you, you’re so much stronger than I was, damn I love you so much,_ were all things he wanted to say to Reid, but he knew they needed to wait. There had to be a reason Reid wanted him there. “You wanted to talk to me first?” 

Reid nodded slowly. 

“Sit down,” Reid glanced over at the chair beside the bed, which was identical to the one used in the waiting hall. Morgan honored Reid’s request and sat down at his bedside. Reid stretched out his hand and Morgan understood, reaching out to grasp his partner’s hand giving in a gentle reassuring squeeze. “I told Dr. Clark I would consent to the full S.A.E, but I haven’t signed the waver yet.” When Morgan couldn’t seem to bring himself to ask why, Reid explained. “I’m just not sure yet. I need to know that it’s worth it.” Reid turned his head towards Morgan, but did not look directly at him. Instead he looked intently at their joined hands. “Is it, Derek?” 

For the first time sense he sat down, Morgan replied, “I can’t make that choice for you, Love.” He knew that was a cop out and defiantly not what Reid needed to hear, but more useless words that weren’t good enough were still all that he had to offer. 

Reid practically threw Morgan’s hand away from him. “You’re on a case,” he said coldly. “Pretend for a second that this is another case and I’m another victim of another unsub. So when I the victim ask you the investigator is it worth it, what do you say to me?" 

“What do I say to you?” It took every ounce of Morgan’s willpower not to take Reid’s hand back because he knew and understood why Reid didn’t want to be touched by anyone, especially him, at this moment. Instead he balled his fist in the sheet and looked at Reid’s eyes even though Reid did not look back at him. “I say to you that you fought as long and as hard as you knew how to.” _And I hate myself for making you feel like that wasn’t good enough._ “I say to you that the fight isn’t over.” _But I will fight beside you forever if you’ll let me._ “I say to you that you have one more weapon against him.” _I wish I had my fists as I weapon against him._ “I say to you that you can fight on by giving the legal system everything they need to charge, prosecute, and convict this son-of-a-bitch.” 

And there it was again: the deadly silence. Seconds posed as days before Reid finally looked Morgan in the eyes. His terrified eyes betrayed the strong face he tried to wear. 

“I’ll do it.”

WIANWIANWIANWIAN

Reid didn’t need to read the waver Dr. Clark presented to him. Although he knew that the exact wording was different from state to state, he essentially had it memorized. 

_I give her permission to touch me and photograph me, blah blah blah. I understand that this can all be submitted as evidence in court, blah blah blah. Just get this over with._

Most of the questioner was also generic.

_“Have you had consensual sexual intercourse in the past 72 hours?”_ It asked.

Yes. He and Morgan had made love the morning that Morgan had left and Reid wondered with a wisp of a thought if they ever would again.

_“Do you currently have any blood born or sexually transmitted diseases or infections?”_

No.

_“Was a condom used?”_ There were three check boxes: one for yes, one for no, and one for unsure. Reid checked yes and swallowed against the feeling of bile rising in his gut at the memory of rolling it onto Ethan’s dick.

Finally when the paperwork was complete, Dr. Clark donned a pair of blue exam gloves and instructed Reid to scoot down toward the edge of the bed.

Reid tried to count the dots in the tiles on the ceiling to distract himself from the stoic-faced brunet doctor gently moving his legs apart and resting his feet in the stirrups at the edge of the bed. Every time he would make it to about twenty or so, his eyes would go cross and his vision would blur, so he gave up and just stared blankly.

“I’m going to take a photograph of the whole area first,” Dr. Clark explained in a gentle yet unwavering voice. 

Reid only nodded and did not reply verbally to acknowledge her. He barely noticed the low flash of her small digital camera. It was only then that Reid truly realized just how exposed he was like this with his legs spread wide open to reveal his naked (no longer private) privacy to the investigator. 

Dr. Clark continued to warn Reid of the steps in the exam. “I’m going to move you penis now.”

Reid’s breath hitched and his eyes blew impossibly wide. _“You are going to do no such thing, Ethan,”_ Reid heard his own words in his mind: the second-to last sentence he had said to his friend just before said friend became his attacker, his rapist. _No. This isn’t him,_ Reid reminded himself. _This is Dr. Clark. This Dr. Miranda Clark from the crime lab of the Washington DC Police Department. She’s not going to hurt me!_

“We can stop the procedure at any time,” Clark assured him, “Do you need a break?”

Reid shook his head so violently it hurt his neck. “NO!” His voice was a strained almost-scream. 

“Dr. Reid…” Clark cautioned, making sure he was still with her and not entrapped by a flashback.

Reid stopped shaking his head and raised himself up slightly. “He kept talking!” he yelled so harshly it made Clark step back. He almost felt guilty for lashing out at her. “The whole time he wouldn’t shut up so just…” even as angry as he was with Ethan, with Morgan, with Clark and with himself, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to shut up. She had done nothing wrong. “You don’t need to talk me thru it. I’m well aware of how the procedure works, so stop narrating and just DO IT!”

Clark nodded slowly. “Okay. Just remember if you need to stop-“

“And draw this out!? No.” Reid let himself fall back on the bed and then did exactly the same thing he had done while he was being raped. He turned his face away, closed his eyes and hoped for an end.

Reid knew that closing his eyes would only cause him to see the details of his brutal attack with just as much clarity as he had when it occurred, if not more now that he was stone sober. But he couldn’t bring himself to look at anything. Not the ceiling that made him go cross-eyed, not the IV line that he hated being attached to his arm, not the chair where just barely ten minutes ago Morgan had sat holding his hand. And defiantly not Dr. Clark, who was now by the sound of it changing her camera lenses. 

He flinched every time the examiner touched him. He knew that different lenses and flash types reveled different levels of surface and residual bruising, but that could never have stopped him from hating it every time she moved his penis to photograph it, then lifted his scrotum to photograph his anal area, only to change lenses and do it all over again. 

When he heard a quiet “clunk” on the cart next to the examiner, he was sure she had put her camera down for the last time. 

“I know you don’t want me to talk you thru the procedure,” Dr. Clark said into the heavy air. “But I need to warn you now that I’m about to do the swab. This is the last part. It’s almost over.”

By now silent tears streamed down Reid’s pale face, and he knew that if he spoke he would begin fully crying again, so again he only nodded in acknowledgment.

He tried to pull his mind away from thing as he had done during the assault and let it go to a technical place instead of an emotional one. 

_Sexual Assault in all forms is the most underreported crime in the United States. Only forty-six in every hundred rapes are reported to authorities._

His eyes were still closed when he heard the sound of tearing paper, undoubtedly the packet that held the sterile swab. The sound was not unlike that of the condom rapper when Ethan had torn it open, but he pushed that thought away. 

_Of the forty-six reports, only twelve will lead to arrest. Is twelve out of forty-six worth this?_

The air was so heavy Reid felt weighed down and pressed into the bed. He struggled for breath.

“I need you to breath slowly and deeply,” Clark instructed. “I know it’s not easy, but try to relax.”

So he tried. 

_Of the twelve reports that lead to arrest, only nine lead to prosecution. Is nine out of forty-six really worth this?_

Reid couldn’t have stopped the high-pitched yelp that escaped him when Clark framed her fingers around his anal ring if his life had depended on it. 

“If you are going to let me do this, than you have to relax. If you flinch, the swab could hurt you.”

_“Dam it, Spencer! That’s why you don’t struggle against the knife!”_ Reid could hear Ethan screaming at him as clearly as if he were in the room. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and darted around the sterile exam room just to make sure Ethan WASN’T in the room. He knew how ridiculous that notion was and closed his eyes again.

He tried to focus on nothing but breathing, counting to ten inhaling, and then backwards from ten exhaling. It worked a little. 

_Of the nine arrests that lead to prosecution, only five will lead to felony conviction. Is five out of forty-six really, truly worth this?_

Despite his attempts at relaxing, he did flinch just slightly when the swab touched him. It stung and burned as the dry cotton rubbed against the sore chafed skin, and Reid gritted his teeth and hissed in pain. 

_Of the five prosecutions that lead to felony convictions, only three will lead to prison sentences. Is three out of forty-six really, truly worth ALL of this?_

Then the pain lessened and it took a moment for Reid to realize that the swab was gone and Reid blinked his eyes open in time to see Clark seal it up inside of a marked evidence bag.

Clark affirmed Reid’s relief. “It’s over. You did it.”

Reid wasted no time in pulling himself back up the bed and covering himself with every blanket in reach, thankful not to be on display anymore. Clark cleaned up her station and disposed of her gloves while Reid continued his breathing exercise until his breathing and heart rate were almost back to a normal level. 

Clark made her way to the door but stopped to turn around just as Reid thought she was finally going to leave. “What do you want me to tell Derek?” she asked. 

Reid looked up and for the first time his own topaz eyes met her stormy gray ones. He noticed then that her stoic look was gone. There was a certain softness to her face now and a furrowing of her brow reminiscent of worry.

_Tell him I love him. Tell him I hate him! Tell him I can’t stand him. Tell him I need him! Tell him I…_

“Tell him I want to be left alone.”

Clark nodded. “I’ll tell him you’re strong, too.”

As she walked away, Reid called after her, “If I’m so strong, than how did any of this happen?”

Clark froze. This was why she did not normally say things like this to victims she examined. She wasn’t a councilor; she was a scientist, and a morbid one at that.

She slowly turned around and looked at Reid. She would never get used to that pained, shamed, defeated look in the eyes of sexual assault victims. She told herself time and time again that she wasn’t supposed to get used to it. She hoped she never did. There was something different in his eyes, though. She had seen fighting will in survivors before, but not quite like this. There was something unexplainable there, something that reminded her of herself so many, many years ago when she wore that same look and vowed to make every rapist suffer and pay.

She cleared her throat and finally answered. “Maybe fate wants you to be even stronger.” 

_“You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it.” Margaret Thatcher_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, these are real stats courtesy of RAINN: The Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network. And FTR, I believe everyone who is raped or sexually assaulted weather they are male, female, transgender or agender; weather they are heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, pansexual, or asexual SHOULD report it! The more report it, the better our system will become at nailing these bastards (and bitches seeing as how a small yet existing percentage of rapists are women)


	8. Homecomings and Hyperventilation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid has a flashback upon returning home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this because I actually induced an anxiety attack on myself!!!! It was unintentional of cores, but I used memories of a panic attack/nervous breakdown that I suffered a year or so ago to write this and…yeah, all came flooding back. So I had better get some damn good reviews!

_“I'd like to be settled into somewhat of a normal life. Somewhat. I know it's never going to be completely normal.” Michael Jordan_

It was the next morning before they left the hospital. Dr. Fielding had insisted that Reid stay overnight to ensure that the infection would not spread. Thru his entire stay in the hospital, Reid never once let Morgan in his room.

Morgan ate stale cafeteria food slept in the waiting room. He never once left the hospital. 

They never once spoke as they walked out of St. Gregory’s together. 

They never once exchanged a word on the ride home.

WIANWIANWIANWIAN

The house was clean, spotless even, when they arrived home. A clean slipcover had been put on the couch, the entertainment center was dusted and the lines on the carpet told them that the floor had been vacuumed. Even the kitchen and breakfast nook were clean. The counters were sparkling and the dishes were washed and put away in the cabinets. 

Reid was the first to break the heavy silence. “This has to have been Garcia’s doing.”

Morgan nodded. “She really outdid herself this time, didn’t she?”

“Hm,” Reid hummed in response. “Where’s Clooney?”

“Garcia said something about him being with Ashley.”

Reid nodded. “I need a shower.”

Although Morgan knew Reid had showered after his exam, and three hours ago just before they left the hospital, Morgan said nothing and just watched Reid walk away to the bathroom and practically slam the door behind him.

Morgan sighed heavily. 

_It doesn’t wash off._

He first tried to sit on the couch before it dawned on him that it was there that the horrific event had occurred. He couldn’t stomach the thought of touching the tainted piece of furniture, so he pulled up a chair at the breakfast nook off the kitchen and rested his elbows on the table with his head in his hands. Eventually he slumped forward and fell asleep.

WIANWIANWIANWIAN 

Reid remembered last time he was in that bathroom vomiting the entire contents of his whiskey-soaked stomach and staring at the bloody, ghostly reflection of himself in the mirror.

He avoided looking at himself. He stripped down quickly and carefully peeled the bandage off of his chest. He fought the urge to vomit again when he caught a glimpse of his own chest wound. It was not as swollen and red as it had been before, but it was still a gruesome sight that he had no desire to look at. It was nearly a foot in length, starting in the center of his chest and curved in a slight contour with his rib cage. Six stitches held the skin together in the deepest places towards the bottom of the cut. Reid knew the scar was bound to be permanent.

Among other scars, as well. 

The soap and the painfully hot water stung his chest wound as well as the much smaller but still painful nicks on his hip, but the heat on his sore body and the familiarity of the scent of his own shampoo and body wash calmed him. For the first time in four days, at least something was right. Something, even if it was something as insignificant as a shower, was the way it was supposed to be. The way he WANTED it to be

He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing under the steady stream with his eyes closed and his mind forced blank, but the water was beginning to run cold and his wounds were bleeding yet again, so reluctantly he turned off the water, stepped out of the shower, and toweled himself dry. He and Morgan had plenty of towels, so he wasn’t worried about getting blood on the one he was using. 

After all, what was one more thing in the house bloodstained and ruined?

Once he was dry, Reid wrapped the towel around his waist. He hated the mere thought of having to look at himself, especially his chest, but he knew he had no choice but to re-bandage himself. 

He turned to open the cabinet behind him and froze. It had happened exactly this way the last time he bandaged himself. He was mostly naked and his vision was hazy, though this time it was from the steam and not nausea like before. He began to hyperventilate and his body began to tremble uncontrollably; his chest began to contract and he felt as though he couldn’t breath. He felt the muscles in his legs begin to spasm and he slowly lowered himself to the floor before he had a chance to collapse.

_Panic attack. Muscle spasms, hyperventilation, tightening of the chest muscles, these are all common symptoms of a…No! Breathe. I need to breathe._

But he couldn’t breathe. 

And then he couldn’t think.

In the breakfast nook, Morgan woke up from his awkward sleep at the table to thumping and thudding coming from the bathroom.

“Everything okay in there?” Worry sprang up in his gut when no reply came. He got up and went to the living room to call towards that bathroom, “Spencer, what’s wrong?” 

Spencer tried to reply, but thought felt tight and his lungs wouldn’t cooperate. 

_I need to breath. I need…I need to survive this._

_// The knife cut deep into the skin of Reid’s chest and sliced down all the way to the rib cage._

_“Dam it, Spencer!” Ethan screamed._

_He barely registered it. All he could think about were the rules._

_“Hawthorn!”//_

“Hawthorn!” Reid cried out.

Morgan heard this from the living room. He wasn’t sure at first what a city in Nevada had to do with anything, but then it occurred to him. _“I even used our old safeword,”_ Reid had said. It took Morgan only a second to realize what was happening. 

“Spencer!” he screamed and ran to the bathroom. He swung the door open and found Reid on the wet floor, his arms wrapped around himself and fingernails digging into his arms drawing blood, his legs kicking and spasming and his entire body shaking in a manner reminiscent of a seizure. 

“Ethan Please! Hawthorn!”

Morgan dropped to his knees beside Reid and carefully placed a hand on one shaking shoulder. “Spencer, Ethan’s gone. Can you here me?” he pleaded desperately. “Spencer, look at me. I’m here. You’re safe. Ethan’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.” His words didn’t even make sense to him. What part of “I’m here” was at all synonymous with “You’re safe?” But he couldn’t stop rambling, couldn’t stop trying to bring Reid out of his waking nightmare. “Spencer, open your eyes. Please look at me.”

Reid’s eyes sprang opened, but the shaking and erratic breathing continued. “Ethan, let go of me!”

Morgan quickly removed his hand. “Spencer, Ethan’s not here. It’s me. It’s Derek. I’m not going to hurt you.” _Again._

Reid blinked rapidly and his breaths calmed, if only slightly. “Ethan?”

Morgan shook his head. “Derek,” he corrected. “Ethan’s gone.”

Reid’s breaths continued to calm over the next minute as he lay there wide-eyed. “Derek?”

Morgan nodded. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.” He knew he was lying.

“Help,” Reid’s voice came as a barely audible squeak, “Help me…up?”

Morgan handled Reid like he was a fragile porcelain doll. He took him by his shoulders and raised him up, slowly, gently. Reid didn’t make it all the way into a sitting position before collapsing and going limp against Morgan. 

“I...I’m sorry,” Reid said as his body began to shake again, this time with sobs and tears. 

Morgan couldn’t feel his arms move when they wrapped around Reid just tight enough to hold him up. “No, no, Love. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry. Just cry. Cry all you need to, it’s okay. I won’t let you go ‘till you say so. Just cry. ”

And so they both did.

 _"I didn't think my heart could break any more than it already has. The pieces still inside of me feel like broken glass. Every time I take a breath, they stab into me. It never ends....” H.M_ Ward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda hate how that ended, but I just NEEDED the chapter to END. So yes, I admit to having rushed it a little. 
> 
> Reviews are good for my nerves!


	9. Wounds and Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of those billions of words, Morgan still cannot find any that suffice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while to update, this chapter was being a bit of a BRAT in my head, that and I think my job is trying to kill me! And after that last chapter I needed a bit of a break anyway.

_“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” Martin Luther King, Jr._

Eventually the tears stopped and it became quiet and calm, too quiet and calm, like the eye of a hurricane. Morgan knew that it was only a matter of time before the storm broke once more, but he couldn’t bare the thought of ending this moment. There was no telling when he would be able to hold Reid like this again. Besides, he had promised not to let go until Reid told him to.

And then out of nowhere Reid let go. With no warning he pushed himself away from Morgan and crawled backward, a look of shock and terror spread across his face.

Morgan raised his hands showing that he meant no harm. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. Calm down. You’re okay.” _Where do I get off saying that?_

“W-What…what happened?”

“You had a panic attack when you got out of the shower.”

“I what?” Reid’s eyes darted frantically around the room…and then down. It was only then that he realized that in all of his moving around he had thrown off the towel that had been around his waist and was completely exposed. He gasped in horror and grabbed the towel to cover himself and crossed one arm over his chest in attempt to hide the gash, which was thankfully no longer bleeding.

Morgan sighed. He wished he could continue to comfort the other frightened man, but his primary concern at that moment was Reid’s physical well being. “Love, we need to replace the bandage on your chest. Otherwise the stitches could come loose and it could get re-infected.”

Reid shook his head, his eyes still blown wide. “I can’t. I can’t touch it, I can’t even look at it without felling sick!”

“Well then…” Morgan hesitated, “let me? Move your arm, Spencer. Please?” 

Reid waited a long moment and slowly lowered his arm. His face changed from terror to shame. He closed his eyes, not willing to look at Morgan. “It’s disgusting.”

Morgan was glad Reid’s eyes were closed so he could not see the way the way his features twisted. _If I ever get my hands on this Ethan bastard, I’ll kill him,_ Morgan thought. “Let’s just get it doctored up, okay?” 

Finally Reid surrendered to the idea. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Morgan stood and retrieved the first aid kit from the cabinet. “Can I put my pants back on and meet you in the bedroom to do this?”

“Of course.”

Reid was overwhelmed with relief when Morgan left the room. Finally he got to decide how things were going to happen. He took a few moments to gather himself before gathering up his cloths. While he was still sitting on the floor he put his legs thru his boxer-briefs and sweat pants and then stood carefully, pulling the clothing up the rest of the way. He glanced at the mirror and was thankful it was still too foggy for him to see more than a blur of himself.

He FELT like a blur of himself.

In the bedroom, Morgan waited (somewhat) patiently for Reid to emerge from the bathroom so that he could begin the necessary evil of bandaging him up. He knew Reid was physically and emotionally injured and exhausted, but he was still worried. He was about call out and ask if he was alright when Reid entered the room, moving nervously and cautiously toward the edge of the bed where Morgan sat. 

Reid sat down a foot or so away from Derek on the edge of the bed. “I know I’m hideous and disgusting right now. You don’t have to touch me. You don’t have to do this. You don’t even have to be here at all if you can’t stand it.”

Morgan’s heart shattered because he remembered feeling the same way many, many years ago and hated so much that the man he loved was in that much pain. “What happened to you is hideous and disgusting, Spencer. YOU are not. I would never think that about you so don’t you either. There is nowhere I could possibly be but here with you.”

Reid did not argue, he simply stared blankly and let Morgan care for his wound. He wasn’t particularly fond of the prospect of Morgan touching his chest, but it was a lesser evil than ending up back in the hospital. He chose the most mundane item in the room, a blue ballpoint pen resting atop the dresser, to focus on and forced his mind blank. He should have been surprised that he did not flinch when the tips Morgan’s index and ring fingers, cold and slick with antibiotic cream, touched the top of the gash. But Reid wasn’t surprised. He just sat there trying to recall every word he had ever written with that pen.

Morgan gently worked his way down the wound applying the ointment that Dr. Fielding had sent home with them. He forced himself not to stop when Reid hissed in pain when his fingers reached the first stitch. The fact that he was keeping Reid from experiencing further physical harm was the only comfort from knowing that he was causing Reid any discomfort whatsoever. Once the wound was covered with the antibiotic, Morgan pressed the gauze bandage to Reid’s chest and secured it with medical tape, careful not to pull to tightly or push to hard. He couldn’t bare to hurt Reid any more than was absolutely necessary.

Once the wound was covered, Morgan looked at the clock and realized it had been almost nine hours sense Reid’s last dose of Bactrim. “Sit tight, Love. I’ll be right back." Morgan hurried to the bathroom. He rinsed out the empty cup before filling it with water and taking it back to the bedroom to Reid. He retrieved the bottle of pills from his pocket and handed the water and one small pill to Reid. “It’s been over eight hours.”

Reid nodded and accepted the pill, popping it into his mouth and washing it down with the entire glass of water.

Morgan sat back down on the edge of the bed next to Reid. The distant gaze Reid had worn while he was bandaging him was now Morgan’s, and Reid apparently noticed. When he was finished with the water, Reid set the empty cup on the bedside table and looked thoughtfully at Morgan. “What are you thinking right now?”

Morgan took a few moments to answer. “Billions of words.”

Reid cocked his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You said, and I quote, “There are literally billions of words in the English language, and the only one you can conjure from your thick head is ‘sorry.’ You’re absolutely right, Spencer. I’ve been racking my brain for the past twenty-four hours and I can’t think of a single one that’s good enough. I’m beginning to think there are no words to express how truly, deeply SORRY I am for the way I treated you when I came home.”

Morgan watched what Reid did next as if he were in a dream or some form of trance.

Reid’s hand moved as fluidly as if he was moving thru water towards Morgan’s. Long, slender fingers linked with larger darker ones and Reid raised Morgan’s hand and pressed it against his tear-stained face. Their eyes met for the first time sense their two-minute conversation in the hospital exam room. Reid’s eyes held vulnerability but no fear when he spoke. “Those words work.” 

Morgan’s breath hitched. He was stunned. “You…you’re forgiving me? Just like that?”

“I think keeping you away while I was in the hospital was punishment enough.” Reid realized how that must have sounded and quickly clarified, “I wasn’t trying to punish you. I just needed time. I was just so angry! I was angry with you, with the doctors, I was angry with Ethan of course, and maybe a little with myself as well.”

Morgan nodded knowingly and lowered his eyes for only a second before meeting Reid’s again. “I get that. Believe me, Love, I get that.”

“I think I’m still angry. But…” Reid paused to place a gentle kiss against the palm of Morgan’s hand that he was still holding against his cheek. “But it’s like you said before, ‘Part of loving someone is trusting and forgiving them.’ And I love you, Derek.”

“I love you too. And I meant it when I said that there is nowhere I could possibly be but here with you, not now and not ever. I promise you that no matter how hard the fight gets I’ll fight beside you. No matter how horrible of a nightmare we have to live to get thru this, we WILL get thru this together. I will never push you away, I will never blame you, I will never think less of you, and I will never, ever, leave you. I love you, Spencer. With all of my heart.”

What happened next astonished Morgan beyond all belief. A look snuck on to Reid’s face that didn’t belong in a nightmare like this, but it was good and right because it’s light chased away the darkness Morgan felt in his heart and gave him hope that together they would indeed survive. 

It was small. It was slight. It was a bit sad. But it was there, beautiful and clear across Reid’s lips.

It was a smile.

_“Love couldn’t be moved by circumstance, poor choices, or even blatant lies—skewed and damaged, yes, but the heart couldn’t deny what it wanted most once the desire was planted. Whether in bliss or affliction, love owned you all the same.” Rachael Wade_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks muchly to all my readers, reviewers, and followers, and kudos givers. This would not have been possible without every single one of you! I wish I could thank each of you by name, but there are just so many! I do want to thank a few specifically: 20000 WPM, BrennaK, MidwestDreamer, Morgan_ReidismyOTP, Sandylee007, and silverwrym. You guys rock!
> 
> This fic is now at an end, but the story will continue! Don’t think that just because Reid forgave Morgan that they are back on solid ground in their relationship. In the words of Sandylee007, “That relatively short bout of mistrust in the absolute worst moment is going to haunt their relationship for a while." And don’t think that Ethan is anywhere close to being gone, either! Will the law ketch up to him, or will he be allowed to cause even more suffering? Keep an eye out for What You Know vs. What You Feel, the sequel coming (hopefully) soon. This will defiantly be a series, meaning the sequel will probably have a sequel depending on how long I desire to stretch this out!


End file.
